Prevaricate
by xiMarionette
Summary: Marcela entered a magical realm during a simple vacation. Unable to return home, Marcela's forced to seek sanctuary in a shady house along with other interesting individuals. And there was nothing that could prepare her for the realization that her blood was thicker than it seemed.


**Prevaricate**

_to avoid giving direct answer to a question in order to hide the truth _

**Chapter 1**

There was nothing more exciting than a well-deserved vacation.

After having graduated with a degree in Child Development, slaving to endless hours at a nearby sports bar back in Upstate New York, collecting money for her dingy scrap back on Fourth Street, Marcela had finally scraped up enough money for a small vacation with her friends. At the age of twenty five, her friend (since birth that is) had finally been proposed to and was getting married within two weeks. Her longtime engagement with her boyfriend of high school pleaded her friends to take the girl out somewhere nice to leave him alone to surprise her with a new house he had purchased with the help of his friends and family. He needed time to move all their furniture into the new house and needed his soon to be wife out of their shared apartment as soon as possible.

It hadn't been on Marcela's plan to go travel halfway across the world to Europe, but her friend desired England highly over any other country.

"Yes, mom, I'm alright," Marcela said on the phone, rolling her eyes as she could hear her mother worrying over her safety in another country.

"Okay, okay," Helen said, sighing helplessly. "How long are you going to be over there?"

"About a week."

"That long?"

"Mom, we just arrived two days ago!" Marcela laughed, scratching the back of her head. She turned around to see her friends fluttering over one another like hens, clucking after foreign men with eyes the size of golf balls. "We'll be fine, mom. I promise."

Helen was not convinced. "Just…just be careful."

"I will."

"And don't get into a cab with any strangers! I mean it!"

"If I do, will dad come save me?" Marcela teased.

Helen chuckled, though it was strained. "I wish Liam Neeson will come save me."

"Mom!"

"Alright, alright!" Helen laughed. "Just be careful. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes." Marcela craned her head to see her girlfriends rounding a corner and heading over to the underground subway. "Alright, mom, I gotta go. We're taking Jessica to go eat some lunch. I'll call you back later tonight, alright?" she said, running over to catch up with her friends.

"Okay," her mother sighed once again. And then, in an almost very quiet, anxious voice, Helen said, "You know I love you, don't you? I love you so much, Marcela. We love you."

"Never doubted it," Marcela replied, quickly walking down the cemented stairs of the _'tube'_, as the Brits would say. She paused midway, glancing down quickly at her phone to see that her bars were disappearing one by one. "Mom, I gotta go. I'll call you," she reminded her once again. Her mother finally relented with her motherly ways and ended the call.

Marcela shoved her phone into her pocket of her skinny jeans and walked quickly down the steps. Her blue eyes flickered from face to face in the busy underground system, but couldn't find her friends in the crowded area. Sighing, she merely shoved around, squeezing her body in tight spaces. "Jessica?" she called out.

It was nearly impossible to fight against the crowd.

Like a fish in rushing water, there was no way she could fight off the people and go the opposite direction. She was flushed away from her original position and taken with the others. Marcela yelped as someone stepped on her shoe. She turned around to give them a good tongue-lashing when suddenly someone shoved her rather hard into one of the bricked pillars.

Marcela braced herself for pain, bringing her arms up to protect her face only to meet the ground with a painful grunt. She groaned, curling up as she felt her ribs ache from the impact of the ground. "What the hell, man?" she said, picking herself up with a limp. Her red and white checkered flannel was dirty on the front and at sight, she started sweeping it away. Her raging blue eyes turned upwards to snarl at the perpetrator. But she was only met with students milling around the area with huge luggage.

"Coward," she muttered, turning this way and that to try and catch a glimpse of a guilty face. Frustrated, she continued to dust herself off. Marcela adjusted the strap of her shoulder purse and glanced around for Jessica.

She sighed, pushing around, peering around for a familiar face.

After five to ten minutes of searching, Marcela still couldn't find anyone. She didn't notice that there was a young mother staring at her in amusement. The woman studied Marcela's muggle clothing and can only assume that her daughter was tittering along with her friends while the woman was searching for her. In sympathy, Elizabeth approached the lost chicken and spoke.

"First time?"

Marcela turned to see a young woman smiling at her. She smiled back in return. "Can you tell?"

"In more ways than one," the young mother nodded to her clothing and to the others. "My name is Elizabeth," she said, holding out a hand and shaking Marcela's hand. "There are no worries, I'll assure you. It's perfectly safe considering nowadays terrors." Elizabeth shuddered, remembering the news regarding of Lord Voldemort's supposed rising.

Marcela nodded. Of course, the number in kidnapping, stealing, and rape have risen considerably in Europe as well as in Asia due to the heavy influence of human trafficking. "That's good."

"What's her name?" Elizabeth asked.

"Jessica," Marcela answered, craning her head around. "And I can't seem to find her."

Elizabeth laughed. "More likely she's with her friends."

"There is no doubt in that."

When the train to Hogwarts hooted, the woman turned to see her husband beckoning for her. "You'll have to excuse me, Marcela. I have to return to my husband. If you are in need of a friend, feel free to owl me." Elizabeth left no time for the woman to question her as she disappeared in the crowd.

Marcela stood there, blinking in confusion. Owl? Was that a slang term for English people? She shrugged and started making way to the opposite side of the platform in case her friends were waiting there.

She got no more than four feet when someone slammed their heavy flat into the back of her Achilles. Marcela went flying forward for the second time today and this time her knees were the ones who broke her fall. She snarled in fury and turned to see a blond teenager sneering down at her. "Get out of the way, woman!" he said.

Quickly, Marcela hopped to her feet and turned quickly to the boy. She blew out her blond bangs from her face and regarded the boy with cold ice eyes. "Listen up here, whelp. I may be American, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to demean me and hurt me." The frustration and irritation at unable to locate her friends bundled up in Marcela and she chose to take it out on the teenager. As she was yelling and reprimanding him, she didn't notice the boy's eyes slowly widen from their narrowness.

"Mum?" he said slowly, peering at her face in suspicion. "Mum, is that you?"

Marcela straightened from her hovering posture. She shook her head and scoffed. "You wish, kid." With a welfare parting gift, she kicked over his trunk, spilling his belongings, and turned to leave.

"Slag!"

"Draco!"

The American ignored the flustering blond kid as he threw words towards her, intent on finding her friends. Marcela plucked the hairband from around her wrist and pulled up her natural brown hair to tie it up high. At birth, Marcela inherited a genetic mutation from one of her parent genes to split her hair follicles to two different colors: yellow and brown. The blond portion of her hair luckily covered about ten percent of her scalp near her forehead (which were mainly her bangs) while the rest of the ninety percent was overcome with brown hair. It wasn't a bad mutation as it had helped Marcela fit into rather fashionable hair styles in high school. But as an adult, there were many jobs that required her to dye her hair. It was tedious, but she was lucky enough to find a job at a sports bar.

But at the age of twenty-five, working at a sports bar wasn't exactly promising, especially since she was nearing her biological clock.

Marcela sighed and walked off. She walked about the platform, watching as the children walked inside of the train. The woman had thought that her friends were already at their destination and tried to find the set of stairs she entered from only to find that it didn't exist.

Wandering around, Marcela sighed and resulted in sitting upon a bench for the mean time. "What is the meaning of this?" she snapped and pulled out her phone.

While she was in the midst of fidgeting with her unresponsive phone, something black appeared at her peripheral vision and sat next to her one the floor.

Marcela looked at the black dog near her and grimaced. She scooted off to the side, holding her breath as the stink of the dog offended her olfactory senses.

As if noticing her revulsion to him, the dog turned to her and panted like an old wheezing man. The edges of its mouth pulled up in a smile and it barked at her. And then, much to Marcela's horror, the dog stood up and walked towards her, the tail wagging about madly.

"No!" Marcela squawked, cringing when the dog drew near. "Get the hell away! Shoo!"

The dog sat before her and panted.

"Go away!"

It tilted its head at the sound of her voice as if listening to her talk. As Marcela continued to try and shoo away the offending creature, the black dog then decided to place its mangy head upon her thigh, whining deep and sorrowfully. Marcela grimaced. "Jesus, what do you want? You want me to pet you?" The dog whined again. She grabbed a nearby newspaper, rolled it up expertly, and started petting the dog with it. "There, there, you, poor mangy bastard. Enjoy it while you can, 'cause I'll be gone soon."

The black dog started panting heavily. Her face twisted in disgust at the foul breath of the dog.

While the canine kept her company, as it refused to be nudged away, Marcela looked around forlornly.

She was missing out on good food, which she knew. Cassandra and Jessica had the perfect talent for picking out great places to dine. Even in the states, they always chose the restaurants with great quality and great service. To miss out on it brought a frown to Marcela's face.

While she continued to pet the dog with the newspaper, Marcela leaned back against the bench. It was probably best to start looking around again. "Alright, dog, your free massage is done. Go on, now." She tapped it's nose with the newspaper and attempted to stand.

The dog barked. It stood and started wagging its tail while staring at her with big brown eyes. Then, to Marcela's horror, the dog up righted itself on its hind legs and placed its dirty paws upon her shoulder.

"No, no! Bad dog! Bad dog!" Marcela yelped, slapping the dog's face with the newspaper. It was impossible. She screeched in indignation when the foul-smelling canine lapped up her face like a treat. "No!"

"Snuffles!"

At the yell, the dog turned around and barked madly.

Marcela looked to the side to see a man and woman running towards her with a run that spoke of desperation. She sneered at the dog and wiped her face. "This is your dog?" she asked.

The man, who was quite badly scarred at the face, smiled albeit nervously. "Yes." He then frowned at her in curiosity, and peered at her face while cocking his head to the right in question. "Narcissa?"

Marcela frowned. "No, Marcela."

"Snuffles," the purple haired woman scolded as soon as she reached the man in question's side. She tapped the dog's head a bit too strongly than should. The dog yelped and playfully nipped at the woman's odd jacket. "Thank you for holding his attention long enough for us to grab him."

The man frowned once again at Marcela before glanced over his shoulder nervously as the train full of students disappeared. "Miss, you should go now."

"It was no problem at all." Marcela opened her purse and shuffled around. "Actually, I was wondering if you guys can help me. As you can tell I'm a tourist, and I'm actually looking how to get to Oxford Street. Is the Marble Arch Tube Station the same thing as St. James's Park Tube Station? Because, I should really be at Broadway, but I've obviously missed or misdirected myself." Marcela showed them the map she was given by Jessica and pointed to one of the pathways. "Is this it? Am I here?"

When they didn't answer her, she looked up to see the couple staring at her with wide eyes. Even the damn dog was staring at her.

"Remus," the purple-haired woman gasped.

The man cleared his throat. "Are…are you a muggle?"

Marcela laughed. "Is that a new term for Yank? 'Cause if it is, yes, I'm an American."

There wasn't time for her to fully comprehend the situation. Marcela was in the midst of giddy laughter when suddenly there were people screaming behind her. Slowly, she turned around to see a scatter of people running around and disappearing in midair. She frowned in confusion, completely dumbfounded by the situation when suddenly there was a blanket of black smoke shooting out over her head. Quickly, she yelped and ducked, throwing herself on the floor as an explosion echoed from behind her. Curling up, Marcela protected her head and brought her knees to her chest. Bricks from the wall she was against fell upon her body.

She stayed still despite the pain, opening her eyes to see people fighting and people fleeing. As if her mind was a movie reel, she watched the couple hiding behind pillars and pointing sticks at their opponents. Marcela was about to turn and see the whole commotion when suddenly her vision was covered with black.

"Come on, love." A rough voice reverberated through her.

The woman didn't understand anything. She felt her arm being pulled up roughly and relatively sooner than she supposed, she was being hauled off.

Marcela was yanked off quickly into a man's chest and barely dodged a flying bullet. She breathed deeply, digging her fingers into the man's back as adrenaline started rushing through veins, forcing her to realize the situation she was in. "Holy shit," she breathed.

The devilishly handsome man grinned down at her. "Lessen your grip, love. We have time to shag later."

The words went from one ear through the other. Marcela gripped him firmly, leaned off to the side to stupidly look and see what was happening. The man clicked his tongue and held her against his chest as glowing bullets sped past her.

His arms felt secure, safe. Marcela held him, nuzzling her face into his chest subconsciously as the sound of destruction echoed from one end of the tube to the other. Her blue eyes warily gazed around almost sleepily, as if she was in a dream-like state, to see that there were dark cloaked figures with silver masks and pointy sticks. The man holding her cursed and threw her on the floor.

She cursed as one of the fallen parts of the building collided with her arm, rendering it useless. As if awoken from her dream spell, Marcela turned to see everyone around throwing around a specialized weapon. "Shit!" she cursed once again and started to army crawl to the stairs of the tube, avoiding the flying glowing bullets.

It was then when a black smoke flew towards her direction, Marcela yelped. She stared and saw the smog land just a few feet to her right and stared widely as it started to gain shape. A woman with crazed hair and just as crazed eyes giggled madly at the sight of Marcela. Then, as if she was really looking at Marcela, the wild woman frowned fiercely. "How did a muggle come upon the Platform?"

Marcela's mouth was gaping like a fish as the black-dressed woman stalked towards her. The banshee shrieked in supposed anger and held her offensive stick at Marcela. "Death to the muggle!" the woman yelled and pointed her stick at her.

"_Stupefy!"_

The woman went flying.

What. The. Fuck.

Marcela turned her head to see that it wasn't glowing bullets passing over head.

Keeping her head low, she stared at the battlefield, her blue eyes concentrated on the glowing colorful lights produced by the sticks in their hands. She narrowed her eyes wondering if it was a specialized taser developed deep within England that were completely more advanced than the ones in the states. It was until Marcela saw a fiery flamed dragon exploding from one end of the dark garbed men, did she feel as if her world exploded.

Another man shifted into an animal and attacked one of the civilians.

Invisible knives sliced a woman; and blood spurted wildly.

"I…I must be dreaming." She pinched her skin and was disappointed to see that it was all real.

This was all real.

There was a sane part in her begging for reality. It was weeping at the new evidence of magical powers, imploring the woman to simply close her eyes and open them again in order to stabilize her mind. This was merely a dream, a whimsical dream. She started breathing heavily, panicky. Marcela was disappointed with her inner mind as a flying spell was sent past her head, activating the stunned woman to start running around wildly for safety.

Holy shit, this was all real.

"Sirius!" Remus yelled as his friend was sent flying through the brick pillars of the platform. "Sirius!" The werewolf approached the pile of bricks, watching as his friend struggled to stand.

"I'm bloody alright! Shut up, Moody!"

Sirius moved himself from the wreckage. He stifled a painful groan, feeling his muscles screaming with agony. He waved a hex to another Death Eater, barely saving Tonks from a dark curse. "Remus! We need to apparate!"

The werewolf was more than aware that they needed to disappear. Flinging another spell to a swirling opponent, Remus ran to Tonks and grasped a hold of her hand. He turned to his friend and then his eyes slid to the forgotten muggle. "Sirius, the muggle!" he yelled barely on time before Tonks whisked them away.

Marcela shrieked as a dead body as thrown in her direction. She dodged it and was running for the staircase to safety when someone firmly grabbed a hold of her hand. She didn't have time to rip away before she felt the most nauseating experience of her life.

As if she was rushing down the rails of a rollercoaster, an uncomfortable sensation pulled at her navel, lifting upwards until she swore it was threatening to surge out of her throat. The whole world was in colors during this experience. There were different sounds echoing from side to side, overlapping one another till Marcela felt like she could see sounds and hear colors.

And then, she landed hard.

Immediately, Marcela struggled on her knees, vomiting pitifully. She heaved and heaved until nothing was left to come out. Her hands were trembling fiercely; her face was pallid as she felt her world unable to come to a standstill.

"They always vomit the first time around."

Marcela was barely able to register that there was a hand patting her back.

"Omfff… oh god… argthhh… ohnngggg…."

Nothing understandable was coming out of her mouth.

Tonks turned to Albus as he watched the scene with concerned eyes. "We don't know how she was there, Dumbledore, but she was on the platform."

"A muggle, you say?" he asked, peering down at the quivering, moaning woman.

"Yes."

"Interesting." Dumbledore approached the woman, placing a hand upon her shoulder in a grandfatherly manner. "My dear, are you alright?"

"Oh, fuck me," Marcela said, groaning as she sat back on her bum. "What the hell was that?" Complaining, Marcela could only fall back on her back and push the heel of her palm into the socket of her eyes. "Dear god, I feel sick."

Sirius merely grinned and toed her side. "I might take up on that first offer, lovely."

Marcela slowly opened her eyes, squinting as if there was bright light shining in her face. As she blinked a couple times, she tilted her head in a curious manner to see strangers standing above her. "W…what?" she said, turning her head around. "Where am I?"

This was no the train station.

"Can we obliviate her and send her back?" Remus asked, wringing his hands nervously. He wasn't comfortable with bringing a strange muggle woman (who happened to pass through the entry of the Platform) into the 12 Grimmauld Place; especially when some members of the Order were there. Things were becoming strain, to a point where spies were infiltrating many areas the Order concentrated upon. For all they knew, she could be one of them.

"I'd rather we keep this hush puppy," Sirius said, waggling his eyebrow at the werewolf. "She's a rather attractive thing, don't you say?" At Tonks' furious glare, Sirius laughed and Remus blushed heavily.

Dumbledore ignored the middle-aged men and bent down next to the woman. "How do you feel?" he asked.

It was then when she brought her head up did Dumbledore stiffen. His eyes brushed over her face structure, soaking in the small details that brought memories to him. The familiar expression and genes was a key to Dumbledore's eyes and it spoke of something that was hidden for quite a while, until now that is. Clearing his throat, he brushed back the woman's blond locks. "What's your name, dearest?"

"Marcela," she groaned. "Oh, I feel so sick."

"Ahhh," he hummed before standing. "Sirius, do we have an extra room for the young woman?"

The three who had been pestering and laughing amongst each other became quiet at Dumbledore's words.

"Wait, we're going to keep her?" Remus said in concern. "But she's a muggle!"

"Yes!" Sirius cheered.

"She could be a spy for all we know!"

"She could be my bedmate!"

Tonks rolled her eyes. "No, Sirius, she will not become your bedmate. Have more class than that."

"But I do!"

Dumbledore grabbed the groaning young woman, helping her up to her feet as she swayed from side to side. His eyes blinked rapidly when she pivoted towards him, face planting to his chest and leaning her whole weight against him. The old man merely chuckled, turning his twinkled eyes to the dark-clad man standing off to the side with a sneer on his face. "Ahh, Severus,"

"Headmaster," Snape said, his lips thinning at the sight of the drunken woman. "Was there something you need?"

"Ah, yes, but first, do help me take Ms. Marcela up to her room."

"I'd rather not."

There was no choice. Dumbledore was holding the woman until she swerved around like a drunkard, flailing for support with a face only a blind man can come to love. And unfortunately, for Snape, she tilted and collapsed upon him, unleashing the deepest bowels of hell that came from the pit of her stomach all over his shoes.

**Just something to go do off the side! **


End file.
